The Poetry Marathon

Hour Four

The Sentinels

Waterfall a sentinel

could tell us the unthinkable

racing on a hidden path

out of pristine night.

Stars look down upon it all

know a lot that came before.

Quiet eyes are full of light

we’re just a speck to them.

Mountains grew out of the earth

like children of a rocky birth.

Booming barging bigness

reminds me of our weakness.

The moon shines light, reflects the sun

enlightens paths we walk upon

doesn’t want anything

as it brightens up our night.

I look at life like it’s a maze

try to see beyond the haze

at mountains, moon and also stars

but also highways choked with cars.

River once was waterfall

accepts its path as it flows on

towards an ocean destiny

knowing time will set it free.

I walk along the rivers edge

can’t see its start or its end

step lightly as I try to hear

its message bubbling loud and clear.

Hour Three

Pond

Standing by my pond…

Bubbles rise next to boulders covered in moss

with weeds popping out.

Hummingbird buzzes by,

Robin flutters remind me to get out of my head

in a flapping wings kind of way.

Gargantuan deep green leaves from a plant given to me in a small pot

now surround and enclose the four foot metal heron that

dominates in winter.

Giant willow looks down on it all,

first tree that I planted remembers everything

much of which I’ve forgotten

while the totem stares out at the pond

ever vigilant.

The progression of flowers races by like life

some are closing that I’ve hardly noticed

while new ones unfold from buds.

Moisture everywhere from sprinklers this morning.

Weeds that at times bother me so much

look like part of the plan.

One small stalk of grass rises above the others as if to say

“Do you notice me?”

Thistles everywhere that my Idaho friend scoffed at

but I see as flowers.

May I look at life through different eyes.

Hour Two

Magic

Did you ever consider

that everything might be random?

Or that all you see is part

of a plan?

Or that you are one tiny piece

of a gargantuan jig-saw puzzle?

Think really hard.

OK – answer fast.

Who are you?

The big question

(unless you know something I don’t)

remains unanswered.

Where do you find meaning?

Who is calling the shots?

How do you decide anything?

We can look for patterns in nature.

Maybe that’s a hint.

The strong survive, at least for a while.

Things change.

And just one species alters patterns.

Changes weather – which changes things.

The big question…

Is what we do preordained?

Are we supposed to learn enough

to recreate the garden and be stewards

of a new Utopia?

Are we supposed to figure out in our last

gasping breath that we did something wrong?

Are we in control?

Or…is a wizard somewhere

waving a wand?

And everything we do is dictated…

in this magical life.

Hour One

I Am

I am watching slo-mo years

race by at breakneck speed

on a different stopwatch.

I am reflecting myself

as I peak into the Sound.

Tip toe to the edge,

have to watch the kids,

cause it gets deep fast.

Orcas come in close,

spout and shrill,

smell like the seaweed

that opens it’s arms

in watery welcome.

I am spectator.

I am witness.

Where I stand was

under a mile of ice

fifteen thousand years ago.

Ice melted,

land rose,

relieved of weight.

Footsteps pattered

onto fertile terrain,

islands carved by

icy retreat.

I am a witness.

I am a spectator.

I am responsible.

checking that I know (remember) how to post things…

Harvey

My name is Harvey.

I grew up on the east coast and escaped to the west coast.

Then I found you can’t run away from you.

What I was really trying to find was inside.

Stay with me here…

There’s a lot more space in outer space than in the oceans.

But they are pretty much equal mysteries.

Just like I’m a mystery to me.

That is why I do the poetry marathon…this will be my fourth time (half marathons)…to explore the mystery.

Advice: Don’t think…don’t plan…try to be present.

So far I have used every prompt given.

The hard part is the discipline to go back and take the shell that was created during the marathon and search for the deeper poem within it.

It’s been a surprising pleasure to go back a week or two later and take the poems in sequence and tweak them…

That has gone much faster than I would expect.

And then a week or two after that – do it again.

The hard part is starting…the easy part is taking a gem and polishing it.

Good luck is the fish that is teasing your bait…just waiting to see if you have the perseverance to keep the line in the water until they forget what they’re doing and bite…

Harvey

Ineptitude

I can only brood

at my ineptitude

words just shy of crude.

I know I am viewed a

buck short of shrewd.

As the words that I’ve spewed

put us all in bad moods.

I have somehow accrued

the right to deluge you

with verbal dog food.

Please don’t let me intrude.

I promise not to be lewd,

to save being booed

or even worse skewed.

Since this city’s subdued

I might be wooed as unscrewed,

given some latitude.

Before being barbecued,

I have certitude

the multitudes

wish me my solitude,

so I bid you adieu.

Ancestors

This morning I asked Colleen,

“How do you write a poem?”

“Look it up online,” she said,

“Or ask Siri.”

I guess I’ll give it a try.

I remember when I felt so small

that everything around me was big.

I had to duck from the avalanche.

Their was no choice but to see the

future as a movie and passively watch.

I had no idea that a shell

surrounded me.

There were moments

when I pecked through to

rays of light that helped

wake me from sleep.

And some guides

came along the way.

Yet in time

I had to choose.

Maybe some choices that came before me

were my ancestors pecking through my veins

and telling me to find exuberance.

Because they never had that choice.

Sunflowers on Blue

There is winter’s gray,

which can be white with cold.

Spring shakes off my doldrums,

emerges from mud and muck

and screams me awake.

Grows up into summer, it’s

big brother of color, like

sunflowers on blue sky.

My garden dances in certainty.

Its certitude not lost to me.

Fall is forgotten.

Who sees that far ahead?

or ever gets old?

This moment is frozen.

Its all that there is.

It’s all I will ever have.

And bright colors are hiding

though it may look much like gray.

Black Widow

Hey big boy…

Wanna have some fun?

I may eat you.

But maybe I won’t.

Like goin’ out on a limb?

You’re not chicken are you?

Come home to mamma.

Hit a home run.

Find out why I got my name

if you’ve got the nerve.

Maybe we’ll just hang.

Catch a few flies.

Or bring your computer,

spend some time on the web.

Life’s no fun without risk?

You could talk to my last sweetie

but he’s out of town for a while.

Don’t hang there like a sloth.

Come on over, I’ve got some stories to spin.